


Disjunction

by Thistlerose



Series: Midnight Conversations [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Backstory, Brothers, Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Sirius Black lost his younger brother.  Written in 2004.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disjunction

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know that Sirius's eyes are gray, not blue. But I wrote this before JK Rowling made her revelation. Also, at this point, we didn't know the names of Sirius and Regulus's parents, so I just made them up.

At the third insistent knock, Sirius called, “Who is it?”, though he already knew. His mother or father would simply have blasted the door open, probably after the second unanswered knock. By now either one of them would be lecturing him, screeching that he'd better show them the respect they were due. Well, his mother would have done the screeching. Rigel Black would have watched reprovingly from the doorway while his elder son weathered Lavinia's tirade.

“It's me,” said Regulus. “Let me in.”

Sirius threw open the door and glared down at his younger brother. “What?” he demanded. “Well, what?” when the boy jumped back a pace.

The blue eyes--a shade darker than his own--sought his anxiously. “You're--you're really leaving tomorrow, aren't you?”

Sirius stepped back from the door and made a sweeping gesture round the room. “See all them trunks? That answer your question?”

“Yeah,” said Regulus dispiritedly.

Sirius looked down at him sharply. “What?”

“Nothing.” The younger boy shrugged and looked past his brother at the packed up bedroom. “Will you see Cousin Bella and Cousin Meda?”

“I s'pect so.” He didn't get along particularly well with his elder female cousins, although he liked Andromeda and great deal better than Bellatrix. “They'll be on the train. If I don't see them there I'll see them at the feast. They have a big, enormous feast the first night. Everyone's there. All the professors and the students.”

“Is that when you find out what house you'll be in?”

“Weren't you even listening when Meda told us about it?” But it was late and he'd been packing all day; he hadn't the strength for true exasperation. Anyway, Reg was only seven--barely past infancy in the estimation of an eleven-year-old. “Yeah, that's when the Sorting happens. You put a big old hat on your head and it tells you what house you'll be in.”

“What house will you be in?”

“How in hell should I know? Probably Slytherin,” he amended dully. “That's where most of our family went. Mum, Dad, Aunt Elladora, Cousin Bella...”

“But not Cousin Meda.”

“Nah, she's in Ravenclaw.”

“Is Ravenclaw good?”

“Ravenclaw is for the smart people,” Sirius said knowledgeably. “I mean, the people who actually like to study. If I got into Ravenclaw it wouldn't be so bad--” He glanced again at his brother, but Regulus, still scanning the bedroom morosely, did not seem to have caught the hopeful note in his tone. “Although,” he finished neutrally, “like I said, I'll probably end up in Slytherin.”

“Me too,” said Reg, looking up at him again, finally. “When I go, I mean.”

“Nah,” said Sirius. “Slytherin's for ambitious types. The ones who don't take shit from anyone.” Regulus winced at the curse; their parents hated it, thought they'd beaten the tendency out of him. “And you haven't got any brains. You'll probably end up in Hufflepuff. That's where they send the stupid, useless twats. Go away, already. I have stuff to do.”

He turned away then, leaving Regulus standing in the corridor, and went back to his bed. He had some dirty mags and a few packs of cigarettes hidden under the mattress--a gift of sorts from Bella's useless wanker of a boyfriend. No doubt he'd given them to Sirius hoping the younger boy would be caught, but he'd grossly underestimated his intended victim. Wondering where he ought to stash them--he'd heard a rumour all bags were searched before they were taken up to the dorms--he called casually over his shoulder, “And close the door, will you?”

He heard the door close and thought Regulus had gone. Slipping a hand under the mattress he felt for the booty and nearly squawked in surprise when Regulus said, behind him, “Can I stay here?”

“No, you bloody well can't!” Sirius snarled, rising and rounding on him. “Why the hell are you still here? Get out, all right? I'll tell Mother.”

Regulus paled, but held his ground and said staunchly, “You will not, because you hate her, too!”

In the silence that followed that remark, the brothers stared at each other, the lighter eyes warning, the darker daring.

Finally, Sirius said in a low voice, “What the hell do you bloody want?”

“I want to say goodbye.”

“You did already. Or you'll do it tomorrow.”

“Without Mother and Father.”

“Fine. Do it, then.”

Regulus opened his mouth to speak again. He closed it without uttering a word, walked silently to the bed, and sat down on it. While Sirius waited with gathering irritation, he swung his short legs and stared determinedly at his sock-clad feet.

“What?” demanded Sirius through clenched teeth.

“I don't want to go back through the corridor,” Regulus said at last, very quietly.

“Why the bloody hell not?”

“The heads keep looking at me. And Kreacher's there. He keeps saying things. About you. And me.”

Sirius crossed his arms over his chest. “What's he saying?”

“Stuff. About how you always disappoint Mother and Father, and now you're going away so it's up to me. I have to be the good son.”

“You are the good son,” Sirius began, but stopped when he saw his brother's pained expression. “Well, fuck, Reg, what do you want from me? I can't protect you all the time, you bleeding coward. I'm out of here, and you know something, I might not come back for Christmas. Yeah, I heard you don't have to. I might stay at Hogwarts with my mates. So you're going to have to grow up.”

“I'm seven!” the other boy shrieked suddenly, and this time it was Sirius' turn to wince.

“Will you shut up?”

“I'm--” The retort was cut off, not by any violence on Sirius' part but because Regulus had heard, as Sirius had, the sound of light footsteps in the hall beyond the closed bedroom door.

“Kreacher,” Sirius mouthed and held a finger to his lips.

Regulus nodded, wide-eyed.

They both listened to the low muttering: “Oh, my mistress and master. Such high hopes they have for the elder boy. Will he disappoint them? I think so, oh, I think so. How sad they will be. But they still have poor Kreacher, unworthy though he is to lick their shoes. And the younger boy, yes, they still have him...”

“Sirius...” Regulus whispered desperately.

Gesturing for Regulus to shut up, Sirius went to the door and for a second time that night, yanked it open. Peering into the dark corridor, he could just discern the small, hunched figure of the house-elf, shuffling through the shadows. “Oi, you,” he said sharply. “Go the hell away or I swear I'll give you clothes. Why don't you do something useful? Go slam your fingers in the front door. Yeah, that's an order.” Light from behind seeped into the corridor, illuminating the moulding on the opposite wall and, further down, just for a second, large milky eyes. Sirius shuddered as though he'd been handed something cold and slimy, then withdrew and closed the door behind him.

“Mother will be angry,” Regulus informed him unnecessarily, in a hushed tone.

Sirius shrugged. “Let her be angry. I'm out of here, tomorrow morning.” He stopped a few feet from his brother and looked down at him again. “You need to get out, too. Kreacher's gone. If he's not...give him your pyjama tops. Tell Mother I did it.”

“I don't want to walk past those heads.”

“Well, I can't hold your hand and walk you past them. For one thing, I think Father's charm is still working and I don't want to get to Hogwarts with boils the size of bollocks on my palms. For another...I just can't be arsed anymore. Grow up.” He'd said it tiredly and when he sank onto the mattress he realised dimly that he would not be getting up again that night. “Bollocks,” he muttered again. Regulus squirmed closer to him. “You could stay here, I suppose.”

“Could I?”

Sirius winced again at the relief in the boy's tone. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess it's all right. Kick me and you're on the floor, though. And I'll tell Kreacher he's got to bathe you like he used to when you were a baby.” He settled back against his pillow. “Get the lights, will you?”

Regulus did, and a few seconds after darkness doused the room Sirius felt the bed dip, and then his younger brother was stretched out beside him. He felt his breath, hot and fast, on his eyelids. “Gotta promise me something, Reg,” he mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“Give ‘em hell for me while I'm gone, all right? Do everything I'd do. You hear?”

“Yeah,” said Regulus.

“Promise me.”

“Promise.”

“Make me proud,” said Sirius, knowing even as he said it that Regulus would not, that this was the last time they would lie like this, talk like this, and it saddened him. By this time tomorrow, his brother would be lost to him.

 

01/11/04


End file.
